Visit Japan in the spring and you will witness the annual
obsession with cherry blossom, to such an extent that the weather forecast each
night includes a ‘blossom front’ as over the course of two months the blossoms
appear on Kyushu in the south, through Honshu and onto Hokkaido in the north.

*******************

At the foot of the Philosopher’s Walk in the hills above old
Kyoto, near the Kitomizu Temple, there are two weeping cherry trees. What made
these unusual though was their near perfect symmetry. The weeping boughs seemed
to bow towards each other, but more peculiar still was that each trunk seemed
to bend down towards the ground before rising again to support the blooms. Exactly
halfway between them, perched on a rock was a statue of a small dog, an Akita I
believe.

As I knelt, running my fingers over the gnarled texture of
the ‘knee’ of the left hand tree, a gentle tap on the shoulder caused me to
turn.

‘Excuse me sir. You seem like a nice English gentleman. I
will practice my English on you!’ announced a confident little girl in pig
tails and white knee socks that were part of the Japanese school uniform.

‘Certainly, if your grandfather doesn’t mind.’ For holding
her hand was a little man, stooped so no taller than his granddaughter. He
nodded enthusiastically, then whispered something into her ear.

‘Grandfather says he will tell you how these trees came to
be, and I will translate,’ she proudly declared. ‘Can you spare an hour?’

So we settled down to this tale.

*******************

Many years ago, before the city came out this far, and
before the temples had been built, this land belonged to a man and his wife.
They had been married for many years and were very much in love. However their
union had never been blessed with children.

Hanako was a true beauty. Her name meant ‘flower child’ and
she was gifted with the clear and fragrant complexion of the white jasmine
flower. In the years of their courtship, Minoru would bring Hanaku a single
fresh flower every single day, a habit he joyfully continued after their
wedding.

Hanaku wished desperately to become a mother, butas season followed season, there was no sign
of any pregnancy.

‘Be patient my love; in time the spirits will provide!’
Minoru would always say. Though he said the same words several times each year,
Hanaku would not argue for she knew the meaning of her husband’s name: ‘truth’.

Sure enough, in the spring of the seventeenth year of their
marriage, as Hanaku worked the land outside their small dwelling, a gust of
warming breeze shook the neighbouring cherry trees. A handful of older blooms
scattered over the neighbouring stream, but one single fresh blossom hovered in
the air like the most delicate of dragon flies. Hanaku was transfixed by its
flight. As she watched it slowly fluttered, like a butterfly now, and landed on
her kimono, just above her belly. At that moment she felt a magical glow and a
spine-tingling shiver.

She ran immediately to Minoru. ‘Dearest husband! It has
happened! We are to be blessed with a child. The spirits have provided, just as
you said they would.’ Together they danced for joy in the milky spring
sunshine.

Not everyone shared in their elation however, for next to
their property lived Onryo, a grumpy and arthritic old man who never had any
visitors and who shook his stick at anyone near him when he travelled beyond
his gate, which was not often. Onryo was no ordinary human being though. He was
the earthly manifestation of the vengeful spirit, and he looked on even the
merest speck of human happiness with disdain, hatred and jealousy. He spied
Hanaku’s joy, grumbled to himself and shuffled into his shabby dwelling.

The months passed, Hanaku’s belly swelled, as did the fruits
on the cherry tree that had borne the good news. Minoru set his mind to
preparing the house for the new arrival. So it was with the passing of autumn,
that the time had come.

The baby arrived, healthy and chubby. A baby girl, with a
complexion to match that of her mother, and eyes as wide and as brown as a halved
lychee. Hanaku and Minoru knew that the infant had arrived as a reward for
their feelings for and trust in each other. So they called her Aiko; ai meaning ‘love and affection’, and ko meaning ‘child’.

The first cry of the new-born, though not a piercing banshee
yowl, but a reminder that little ones need feeding, was enough to awaken the
dozing Onryo. This sign of unbridled happiness was at the very limit of his
tolerance, and unbeknownst to his neighbours, the most vengeful side of his
personality was about to be awakened.

Aiko was quite literally a bundle of joy. Everywhere the
family went, her smile and eyes brought light and pleasure to everyone they
met. She would chuckle at every tickle of her chin, at each squeeze of her
cheeks, and every time her father threw her up in the air her merriment could
be heard the length of the hill side. She walked within a year and would chase
after birds and rabbits, who wouldn’t fly or hop away, entranced as they were
by her hypnotic laughter, and who let the little girl pet them ever so gently.

Hanaku taught her the names of all the flowers, birds and
insects. Minoru explained the value of telling the truth, and being
trustworthy. Aiko fell in love with the beauty of everything around her and
would spend hours sitting below a tree to see the birds arriving to build their
nests, watching the fledglings taking their first nervy exits, and waiting for
the sepals to open on the flowers to reveal their first blooms.

Hanaku loved to tell her daughter the story of the falling
cherry blossom and the faith that Minoru had shown in the spirits. Each spring
she would wait for the first blossoms to fall, and then chase after them trying
to catch them on the tip of her tongue, on her nose or delicately between her
thumb and forefinger.

When she was four years old, a strong gust threw some
blossoms high into the air, and a second swirling gust sent them in every
direction. Aiko ran to the blooms as she always did her eyes on a particular
prize. She ran, skipping over rocks, flowers and a stream. Oh yes! The very
stream that ran along the side of their land. The very stream that marked the
land belonging to Onryo.

Of course little girls probably don’t understand what it
means to trespass on someone else’s land, but Onryo certainly did. He hobbled
from his house, waving his stick and yelling at her to get off his land. ‘I
don’t ever want to see you on her again!’ he bellowed so loudly that even the
birds were quietened.

Aiko, having never seen or heard such a noise, leapt the stream
and ran bawling her eyes out into the arms of her parents. ‘He is a tired and
grumpy old man’ said her father, for this was the truth that he knew. Little
did he know that the events of that day had triggered more thoughts on Onryo’s
mind.

One year passed. Aiko’s continued happiness helped her
forget the trauma of the old man’s anger. The next spring, another flurry sent
the blossoms scattering. Once more Aiko chased the falling flowers, her eyes on
thewidest one. She ran, skipping over
rocks, flowers and a stream. Oh yes! The very stream that ran along the side of
their land. The very stream that marked the land belonging to Onryo.

Onryo however was waiting. ‘Don’t you remember last year!
You do that again, I swear you will never leave here again.’

Once more Aiko leapt the stream and ran to the comforting
embrace of her parents. ‘He probably can’t see the beauty of the nature around
him,’ her mother whispered, for she knew nothing of his real hatred of beauty.

A further year passed. Now six, Aiko still marvelled at the
wonders of nature’s cycles and waited for the cherry blossom with heightened
anticipation. Sure enough the blooms emerged, opened and were caught by a draft
of warm air. Aiko had focussed her attention on one exceptionally fat bud, and
its emerging flower, and when it fell, that was her target.

She ran, skipping over rocks, flowers and a stream. Oh yes!
The very stream that ran along the side of their land. The very stream that
marked the land belonging to Onryo.

Onryo too had watched the buds emerging, had seen the
exceptionally fat bud and waited for the moment that it would fall. He emerged
from behind a bamboo screen.

‘I have told you twice before about coming onto my land.
Last year I told you that you would never leave if you did that again!’

Before she had the chance to run or even to call to her
parents, Onryo stared deep into her eyes. A demon red glow, heightened by the
deep jet black of his pupils, rendered her helpless. Rooted to the spot on top
of the rock where she stood, Aiko felt a sensation from her feet, travelling up
towards her knees. As she looked down she saw that she now had fur on her legs,
and her feet had become paws. As the demon’s spell continued, she fell onto all
fours, fur now growing from her back and her ears lengthening.

Fighting her fear she called to her parents, ‘Mother!
Father! Help me!’ but all they heard was a puppy dog howl. This was enough to
alert them, and as they saw Aiko’s nose and mouth become the muzzle of an
Akita, they jumped the stream together.

‘Ah the brat’s pathetic parents. You were too old to have
any happiness anyway,’ Onryo cackled as he engaged their eyes in the same
glare.

This time however they were transformed not into dogs, but
into stone. They tried to bend down to their daughter, but the stone reached
their knees which struck, bent and rigid. They could now lean over, but
couldn’t quite reach her. ‘Run Aiko! Get help!’

Aiko wouldn’t leave. It was too late. Within minutes Minoru
and Hanaku were transformed to stone, knees bent, arms trailing in a vain
attempt to reach their daughter. Onryo had had his vengeance. Even he wouldn’t
waste roe on tying the dog to the trees. She would stay, and probably die of
hunger.

Aiko began to cry, slowly at first, then great buckets of
uncontrolled tears. These were not only tears of sadness, but tears of love,
beauty and truth. As they fell on the ground they seeped into the stone that was the feet of her
parents. The stone, dampened by the tears, began to transform into the trunks
of two trees. More tears fell, and the statues continued to change, with the
arms becomingbranches and the fingers
growing into twigs. By the time that the tears stopped Hanaku and Minoru were
two cherry trees, the very cherry trees that brought them the news of their
daughter.

Aiko had cried out all the love and affection that she could
muster. She was exhausted, and had no tears left to transform herself. She was
completely dried out, and felt herself changing again, this time into the stone
that her parents had so recently been. She sat, a little Akita puppy, at the feet
of her parental cherry trees.

As for Onryo; his demon magic was no answer to the power of
love and truth. This drained away his energies as he watched turning him into a
hollow stalk of bamboo, hollow for the feelings he never had.

To this day, visitors still ask how the trees and the little
dog came to be. Look ever so carefully. Can you find the tiniest streak of a
tear?